Keeping It Indoors
by msarahv
Summary: Cas in a French maid outfit. Had to do it, guys!


"This is ridiculous, Dean."

Dean couldn't answer. Partially because he was laughing so hard, partially because even then, Castiel looked so hot... The way the muscles on his arms tensed the fabric, or how his legs looked longer or...

So, Cas kept on glaring, like he did so well, as well as ranting, in a matter-of-fact voice:

"This is not historically accurate in any way. While maids did wear black and white at some point in time, the dress was modest and much longer. This is impractical as well as objectifying."

That sobered Dean up a little:

"Come on, Cas, it's for Halloween. Everybody dresses in silly costumes."

Cas' eyes dropped down to Dean's own legs, safely draped in a blanket:

"You're not. You're planning on wearing this cowboy outfit. It is also inaccurate but isn't ridiculous in the least."

Dean smiled smugly. He twirled in front of his grumpy audience, but stopped and frowned when he saw Cas retreat while taking the zipper of the outfit off:

"Nonono, Cas... Can you consider a little bit more? Like, give the dress another chance?"

Cas turned slowly, his eyes getting even smaller and done with Dean's shit.

"Why would I do that? We could continue our search and find another shop that still has other costumes. Or you could let me have the cowboy one."

"The Hell, no!"

"Then, I have decided." Cas walked away deliberately, coming back a few minutes later in his impeccable suit, his shapeless trench coat and... Where was the tie?

Oh, it was in his hand. Cas held it to Dean, grumbling:

"Help me tie this on. I never manage it."

Dean did, and took advantage of the moment to grab the French Maid costume. He managed to send Cas to the car before he paid.

* * *

Once at the bunker, he hid it in his room. Cas had found an angel costume (Dean had tried arguing this was cheating as Cas wouldn't be "disguised", so much as "revealed") which he liked a lot and was talking about dying the wings black.

"Why, aren't your real wings white?"

"Of course, not, Dean. My wings belong on the ethereal plane and as such do not reflect sunlight. They do not have any "color". I just like the idea of black."

Dean sighed:

"Well, if you like black and white, then..."

"No, Dean."

Fuck.

* * *

Halloween was a week away, so Dean had gone pumpkin hunting. He came back with three big ones and attempted to show Cas.

"I am not comfortable with you handling this orange organic matter, Dean. It could stain my suit."

"Couldn't you mojo it away?"

"That would be a frivolous use of my precious remaining grace. I'd rather change."

"Sure, go ahead."

Cas walked to the library's door, then paused:

"I don't own other clothes. And I can't borrow Sam's, they would be too big."

Dean grinned:

"True."

Cas was waiting, his gaze pointed. Dead didn't take the hint. He just smiled wider.

"What you would need is something made to protect from stains. Like an apron."

"Yes. Is there such an item in the bunker's kitchen?"

"Nope. I may have a solution though."

"I hate you Dean."

"No, you don't."

It was difficult to keep sculpting the pumpkin, what with Cas' proximity and breath on Dean's neck, as well as the return of the costume. This was a big win.

Eventually knowledge was exchanged and Cas prepared his own pumpkin. Dean sat on a bench and daydreamed. It was a very precise daydream and quite satisfying. It was fuelled by Cas' forearms moving slowly along with the knife, which made the decollete wider. Castiel was barefoot, which was doing things to Dean's imagination as well.

Cas handed back the costume with a glare:

"You can dispose of it, now. I still won't wear it for Halloween or for any other holiday."

"You sure?"

The "Dean" he got as an answer was a long-suffering outcry. He stopped.

* * *

Halloween had passed. Castiel was happily eating candies he had bought earlier at the store. Sam was sleeping a hangover off. Dean was in his Dead Man's robes (maybe his grandfather's? Hey, family heirloom, bitch!) frowning at his laptop.

At one point he looked up and Cas was gone. He didn't bother calling. Cas came and go as he pleased and with zero warning. It was frustrating and a little sad sometimes.

But then, there was movement and Dean looked up again. His mouth turned drier than the Sahara.

Cas was wearing the FULL outfit. Which included net stockings and garters. He had a feather duster in hand and was sweeping up the bookshelves.

"You were right about the second chance, Dean. I feel this outfit has potential."

Dean might have nodded. He didn't know. Breathing was the real problem here.

"Wow, guys, the library is spotless, what happened, Dean went on a cleaning spree? Guys...? Oh, fuck, no, fuck, Dean!"

Dean paused in his trusting to take a needed breath and perv a little more at Cas' crumpled costume. It had slided off after he himself had slid in. Castiel was panting but getting impatient:

"Come on, Dean, I said harder, not stop!"

"Didn't you hear something, Cas? I swear there was a voice?"

"Did that voice tell you to stop moving?"

"Bossy."

But Dean obeyed. Cas looking like this could make him do anything.


End file.
